Christmas for a King
by Kelenloth
Summary: It's Yule time, and Aragorn, the King of Gondor, is off to look for presents for his freinds, but he find much more then that, and shares the true meaning of the holiday. A bit AU. Oneshot.


Aragorn slipped quietly out the back door to the secluded stairway, looking back to close it quietly behind him. His eyes darting around him, he hurried down the quiet stone hallway, past the many bright windows. Arriving at the next doorway, he looked back once more before slipping his dark cloak over his shoulders and, peeking around the corner, pulled the dark hood tightly around him to hide his face. He quickly slowed his pace, lowering his head, he looked around once more. No guards. Good. Striding down the slight slope, he silently thanked the Valar he had succeeded in slipping out unseen. Being King had its perks, but for a little while, he had to get away. He had not told Arwen yet, and he trusted his seven-year-old son to keep a secret, and keep his mother occupied that evening. Come nightfall they would know he had left, but by then he hoped to be safely away. He hoped Arwen would not mind, he had told her he wanted to 'get away from it all' but he had not said how literally he meant it.

Cold winds blew in strange patterns about the maze of passages and streets of the huge, nine leveled city, bringing a smile to the ranger's face. He breathed the brisk air in deeply as he was again reminded why he loved Yule season. The celebration of Eruion's arrival on earth was a special one. And men, elves, dwarves, and hobbits everywhere celebrated it, knowingly or not. Legolas would be coming over this year, as would Faramir and Eowyn, and if possible his brothers. He smiled at the thought of the good times they would have. Eldarion always enjoyed storytelling, and in truth, Aragorn knew it came from his own heart that the boy loved it so. There would be many, many good stories passed around in the coming days, and along with the stories, presents. It was always custom to pass around gifts this time of year, one of his other favorite traditions. He loved fining or making special thing for his family members since boy hood, and he laughed as he thought back so long ago. One winter he had successfully hidden the many burns his hands had gathered from trying his own hand at the smithy from a whole week before his father found him, and by that time he had already finished the metal trinket he had made. A small hunters knife, he had made it for Elladan, after he lost the elf's own on a hunting trip gone awry. The rough blade was nowhere near as good or shiny as the old one, but Dan had held it ten times as dear.

Aragorn's brisk walk took him down the streets and eventually to the lower levels of the city. The streets had taken him many years to learn, and even now he was not sure he had them all down. The sun sank ever nearer to the horizon as he made it at last to the large gates of the city, which stood opened wide, letting crowds of people through, and in his dark cloak, Aragorn slipped through unnoticed. He smiled to himself for once more outsmarting his guards, telling them he was in his room going over the backwash of unneeded political papers. He had tried to tell them that the papers were unneeded and a waste of parchment and ink, but it seemed that the old line of stewards and their ways always had one more way to annoy him. The irritating 'customs' and such, and the confusing ranking of people who were titled as import, but, he was sure, were simply placed there for lack of skill in any practical category. He could not fathom how Faramir stood his father acting like those men all the time, and he thanked Eru that Faramir himself was not like that.

His feet falling into the familiar age old stride that had so long ago earned him a nickname, his heart was gladdened to be a simple ranger once more. He hugged his old worn coat and his weather stained cloak around him and set off, not knowing exactly where he was headed, he took a road and set out to see where it lead him by nightfall. As far as finding gifts went, he already had in mind what he would get. For his son, he had a special gift, his very first training sword f his own. The small lightweight and blunt blade already awaited him back at the palace, hidden under the king's bed until the right time. For Arwen he and Eldarion had worked together; he helped the boy as Dari drew up a small necklace, and the father and son set off to make it a reality. Aragorn smiled to think of his son, following a bit in his footsteps as it were, not allowing the smith to do any of the work he thought he could do himself, the boy had spent hours on end in the musty hot rooms, shaping his precious bar of silver into a masterpiece. And Aragorn had helped his son fit a small sapphire into the middle.

As for Legolas, he did not know what to get, but thought it would be perfect if he found out in wandering, just as he had done so many times before. He laughed quietly to himself as he remembered past holidays, once he had made for Legolas a small pack of herbs, and not told the elf what they were for until after he smelled them.

//Legolas lifted the small bag to his nose and barely inhaled, the expression on his face changing to a quick shock as the sharp small reached his sensitive nose. "What in-"

Aragorn's laugh cut him off, practically falling over, as the elf glared at him. "It's for payback, I guess." Aragorn did his beast to speak, laugh, and remember to breathe all at once.

"Payback?!" Legolas' face showed his amusement at the ranger's laughter, but he was having trouble understanding the joke.

"Oh yes, but not for you, for me." Aragorn clamed himself and tried to contain the laughter, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small vile of liquid, he handed it to the elf. "I would not mix the two if I were you, unless you want me to pass out."

Legolas looked at the bottle, and then the bag, realization seeping into his mind. He carefully sniffed the herbs again, the smell fairly familiar, a smile broke on his face "This isn't..." He next sniffed the bottle "It is! Oh ranger, you make me laugh!" he tied the bag off once more "but you know, they do say payback is a dish best served cold, and it make me wonder why you would give me such a thing." A smirk grew on his face.

By now, the two identical dark haired elves that stood by were completely lost on the situation. "What is it?" Elrohir asked him, in response Legolas simply offer the bag up for him to smell. One sniff was all it took, and his expression matched that on Legolas' face. As Elladan copied the move exactly, both Aragorn and Legolas broke into a fit of laughter, both of them almost falling off their chairs.

"But this is..." Elladan identified the herbs as a drug his father had made long ago, especially good at sending people unconscious. "What's so funny?"

Aragorn looked up to his brother, wiping a small tear from his eyes, spawned from laughter; he took the bag back in his hands. "A while back I was forced to drug the prince here..."

"Forced!? You didn't have to! I could have-"

"For his own safety, of course." Aragorn glared at his friend for interrupting, a small challenging smile on his face. "And he has been complaining about the small ever since. He swore he would get back at me one day, so I thought I'd make it a bit easier for him..."

Legolas grabbed the small bag from his hands and placed it and the bottle deep into his pack, "When you least expect it, ranger..." He smiled evilly with a feigned malice in his laugh. //

Looking up the sky, Aragorn smiled at the dark clouds on the tip of the horizon. He had hoped they would come. At this temperature, dark clouds hopefully meant snow. Pulling his hood tighter, he did not even try to recognize where he was going, letting his feet take him where they would.

The sun slowly began to slip under the horizon, as Aragorn found himself in a small Gondorian town. Quickly locating the local tavern, The Sleeping Fox Inn, he walked in to find it had a very large common room, and that the several merchants were there as well. The odd floor plan offered an open view of the small, partially covered courtyard, where a few merchant's booths were set up apart from those that were in the streets outside. Aragorn chose a good seat, in the corner, but with a good view of the courtyard-side windows, he ordered the house brew and sat quietly looking out the window. It was a quiet town; no matter how busy with passing merchants this time of year, the men at the inn had no interesting stories for him to hear, and from his position by the window, he looked over the merchant's wares for anything that might interest him. Various peddlers sold different trinkets, accompanied by tanners, potters, weavers, and smiths, among other things. His eyes fell on the stand of a forester, looking over his wares, the ranger stood from his seat ad headed out to get a closer look.

"'Evenin', sir." The young man said, As Aragorn walked up to the stand. "Anything you looking for?" He asked, pulling his coat around him, he put down a half-finished knife sheath he was shaping to help his newest customer.

"Oh, no, I'm just... looking around." Aragorn told him, keeping his eyes down cast a bit and thankful that the cold weather gave him an excuse to leave up his hood. It would do no good for anyone to know he was the King. Looking over the hunting knives, quivers, sharpening stones, and other things, He almost turned to go. A strange noise caught his attention from a box behind the merchant. Aragorn's head snapped up at the sound. He knew that sound, from long ago. He listened through the wind for what he almost thought was a strange purring. "What is that?" He asked quietly, inclining his head to the box.

"Nothing." The man told him, much too quickly, as he stepped in front of the box.

"Really?" Aragorn lifted one eyebrow, a move perfected with so many years watching the master, Lord Elrond.

"Well... "The man turned around and picked up the box, which promptly attempted to jump out of his arms. Aragorn put a hand out to catch it, saving the small crate from impact. "I'm sorry, sir, I..." Aragorn looked at the small creature in the crate, which still insisted on slamming itself into the walls. "I don't know what it is."

A smile grew of Aragorn's face. He knew he had heard that noise before. He whispered a quiet word in elvish, clamming the little thing's senses. It focused its large, dark eyes on him as it hid in the corner of the box in fear. "I do." He told the man. The small, almost cat like features brought up old memories. As he watched the terrified creature he tried to decide weather it was more cat, ferret, or otter; knowing that in truth it was something totally different, a ketral. He smiled to himself thinking of how perfect it was. He had sometimes wondered why, but Legolas loved the rare little critters, no matter how much trouble they got him into. He was not quite sure what had happened to his pets of old, but he had not seen them in quite some time, and he actually doubted they lived still, after not come with their owner to Ithilien.

"How much would you take for him?" Aragorn looked back up to the merchant, the man seemed unsure, but his face changed when Aragorn drew out a large bag of gold coins, pouring half of them onto the table, the pile was a very sizeable one, and Aragorn could tell by the man's face that it could probably support his family for months.

"Thank you, sir!" The man was almost speechless.

"So that will do?" Aragorn smiled happily at him.

"Oh, yes sir, but..." he stopped, a little unsure "Would you tell me what is it?" He was still serious about what he had just sold.

"Of course. It is called a 'Ketral'. I've never seen one this far from Mirkwood, to tell the truth. They're rare, skittish little creatures, and I'm surprised you found this one." Aragorn leaned in closer, watching the intrigued look on the young man's face.

"Oh, you see, I found him a ways off, sir. The foot of the mountains. I- I have to admit, sir, I got lost. And by the time I found a landmark is was so dark, I had to go into the forest for shelter. Fangorn is a scary place."

"Is that where you found him, Fangorn? Well, you're a brave soul. Be sure, though, he'll find a good home with me." Aragorn gave the man a small wink.

"Oh good," the man's smile grew "I was a bit scared for the little fella, out in this cold and all. Maybe you could take him inside, out of this weather. Looks like snow soon."

"Good man." Aragorn patted his shoulder, placing the small crate under his jacket protectively, he gave a nod as he went back into the tavern, sitting by the window, the merchant could still see him through the window as he quietly found a seat and prepared to take another look at his new 'pet'. Opening one side of the crate, he found a small box-trap, well built, it had been opened and closed since the creature was captured, most likely for food, but it now doubled as a temporary cage. As he opened the door, the tiny animal coward in the corner. He could tell it was but a kit, probably had a mother somewhere that it still needed in truth. As he cautiously reached his hand in, it shivered in the corner. Aragorn felt a small nip on his fingers as the poor creature tried to defend itself. Aragorn made a grab for it, but the creature was to fast for him.

In under a second, it was up his arm and out of the cage. Aragorn panicked for half a moment, recalling the trouble these little beasts had gotten him into in the halls of Mirkwood before. He quickly trapped it under his arm before anyone in the inn could notice.

"You're going to get me in trouble, little one." He whispered softly in elvish, holding the creature to himself, he slowly cupped it in his hands, carefully attempting to look it over, the animal found comfort in his warmth and soft words.

Just as he was about to say something more, his attention was captured by the others in the common room.

"What you got there?" A drunken voice intruded. Aragorn looked up to see a group of three men standing there, curious of his small package.

"Nothing." Aragorn answered slowly, slipping his hand into his over coat, he slipped the tiny ball of fur into his lower pocket, praying it would stay there.

"Nothin', huh?" The drunkard asked, slamming a fist on the table.

"Nothing." Aragorn affirmed, with a slow, deliberate nod, making firm eye contact with the man before him.

"We'll see about-" The man did not even finish his sentence before throwing a poorly aimed punch at the man, spilling a mug on the way down. Aragorn quickly ducked the plow, and, grabbing the empty cage and his pack, he stood to his feet.

"If you would like a seat, sir, I would suggest you find your own, and if you insist on taking mine, I expect you'll pay for the ale you've spilt." Aragorn said with a calm, almost monotone voice. He had no fondness for these drunkards, but he did not wish a fight.

"Why you-" The man came at him, standing unsteadily to his feet, his friends tried to help him up, landing one of them on the floor. Again, the large man threw his fist at Aragorn, and again he promptly dodged, allowing the man to trip to the ground.

"Goodnight, sir." Aragorn calmly walked towards the door, flipping a coin to the bartender for ale he did not drink, he left the man on the floor. "I suggest you save your money for a better cause." He walked out the door, his breath forming a small cloud before him, he pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders, once again in the cold air among the merchants. He sat on a small bench near the tavern door, looking once more to the small creature in his pocket. Thankfully, it had seen fit to stay cowering in the warm darkness in his jacket, until its new owner came for it again.

Aragorn looked left and right, seeing the merchants, selling everything from shoes to swords to shovels. Not far off was the forester who had sold him the little Ketral.

"There you are, little fella." He picked the little ball of fur out of his pocket, holding it gently in his he hand, he leaned back, setting the little fist-sized animal on his chest, he covered it in his cloak, simply marveling at the tiny perfection of nature. He was not sure if he had ever seen an animal quite as... cute... as this. He laughed inwardly to himself, seeing why his friend was so fond of them. As not to look suspicious, Aragorn leaned back, the only evidence of the creature left was the hand he held, waist level, mostly sheltered by his other elbow, where he leaned on the bench arm, smoking a pipe.

Aragorn surveys the streets once more. It was getting late now, and many shops were packing up, a caravan of five merchants ready to leave town. Many people filed past him into the Inn now, few of them paying him any mind. The forester looked up to see him, waving as he finished packing his things. Aragorn shifter the little Ketral in his hand, making it obvious to the man that he was keeping it warm.

The streets grew ever quieter, until only the merchants that lived in town were out. As he looked over the people, reminding himself that they were his citizens, his people. He smiled at the many happy faces.

The winds blew colder now, and Aragorn pulled his dark hood closer about him, to block the chill, but allow to hide his face. It was a miracle no one had noticed his identity thus far. People saw only what they wanted to see, though, and he knew from many years of experience how practically invisible being a ranger could be.

As the sun set, Aragorn saw the last of the merchants closing up shop, a small voice caching his ear.

"Sir! Sir, wait." A young boy's voice called. Aragorn looked over to see him, tugging on an elder man's coat; he held a small pair of woman shoes in his hands. Aragorn leaned in, focusing his attention on the lad; he listened as best he could over the growing winds. The boy's short dark hair was knotted, and his small tunic torn and dirty, but Aragorn could tell he worked hard for all he got.

"Sir, I want to buy these shoes. For my mother." He told the man.

Kneeling, the old shoemaker took the shoes in his hands. "Alright son, but..." He looked over the boy's simple clothing. "How much do you have?" he asked simply, hoping that the boy had enough, he truly wanted to give his the shoes, but needed the money to support his own family. At once the boy went to digging into his pockets, drawing out a small brown bag, he handed it to the man and prayed it was enough. "Let's see here." The man said, going back to his table, he poured the contender of the bag out and began to count out the small copper pieces.

"Oh, sir, please hurry." The boy stood on his tiptoes, trying to watch the man count "I've got to get them to her soon. See, father said..." he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Well, he said there's not much time."

The old shoemaker kept at his counting, but his brow wrinkled at the words. For the first time Aragorn noticed that the boy had obviously recently had a good cry. His red eyes told his sorrow just as well as his words.

"You see, Sir." the boy continued, "She's been sick for some time now, and... Oh please, hurry sir. It... It's almost Yule time, you know, and...And I... I know these shoes will make her smile, and..." His breath came now in shallow gasps he tried desperately to keep control, as sobs shook his small frame. "I want... I want her to look beautiful, if... If Momma meets..." He sniffled "If she meets Eruion tonight."

The words hit Aragorn in the chest. Forming a lump in his throat, it was one of the saddest things he had herd in a long time. The thought of a young boy's mother dieing, right before Yule no less, was something had never considered, but now that he did, he was amazed at how well the boy was taking it. He could see the pang of sadness in the merchant's eyes, as just when the boy had finished, he too had finished his work.

"I... I'm truly sorry, son but... there isn't enough, I..." he stuttered, knowing that he did not have the resources to be giving out things for anything under the price.

"Oh please, sir! You've got to! Oh, mother always made Yule time the best at our house, but... I could never get her anything in return. Oh I've just got to buy these shoes, sir." The boy was growing frantic.

"Son, I'm sorry, I truly am, but..."

Tears formed in Aragorn eyes at the sight. The people on the street walked idly by as the boy tried desperately, but in vain to contain his tears. Without a second though he stood from his place on the bench. Slipping the small animal in his hand back into the small wooden crate, he left in under the bench, not seeing anyone that would take it.

"How much?" He asked the Merchant, suddenly at the boy's side, neither man nor boy had noticed his approach.

"For what?"

"The shoes." He placed a light hand on the sobbing boy's shoulder. Looking up to him with large, questioning eyes, he said nothing but stared.

"Well..." The shoemaker began, trying to figure out how much more the boy needed.

"It doesn't matter." Aragorn cut him off, changing his question; he opened his bag and dug out a small handful of gold pieces. Taking three of them, the merchant kindly smiled at him.

"Thank you." he whispered, happy that the boy could have his shoes, without it being at his own family's expense.

Aragorn nodded, tacking the simple shoes in his hands, he got down on one knee to present them to the boy. "Here." he told him in a calming, gentle tone, his own voice now think with emotion. The shoemaker closed up shop, heading inside to escape the winds, and Aragorn noticed that they were now some of the few people still out and about.

"Oh thank you, Sir!" The boy yelled, practically jumping up and down. He took the shoes in his hands, and Aragorn placed all ten of his copper coins back in the little bag, handing them back. "Oh, thank you!" the boy called again, suddenly grabbing Aragorn around the neck, he hugged him tightly. Aragorn smiled, returning the embrace kindly. As the boy pulled back, the dark hood was knocked from his head, fully revealing his face. Aragorn now knew why the boy had been staring at him before.

"Why you're..." He said, his excitement changing into awe. Aragorn quickly put his finger to his lips, shushing the boy and making sure his new friend was the only person around that knew. "The king." The boy whispered as quietly as he could, his awed and exited expression showing his extreme respect of the older man.

"Yes." He whispered. "And I want to help. What is your name?" He asked, placing his hand on the exited boy's shoulder.

"It's... It's Callon, son of Cellin, Sir, I mean... My Lord, I-I mean..." Aragorn placed his finger gently to the boy's lips.

"Let's get you home, I heard someone is waiting for you." He stood, looking around quickly and pulling his hood back over his head. Callon's expression flashed a look of grief at the mention of his family, but he quickly started out towards his home.

As the first of the stars threatened to show themselves, Callon's legs carried him quickly down the road. Aragorn walked swiftly behind him, carrying the small crate that his ketral sat quietly in; comforted by a small cloth Aragorn had slipped in as a blanket. When they arrived at the door to the small house, Callon was nearly out of breath in the cold weather, the small clouds he formed coming in faster and faster intervals throughout the trip. Aragorn's own long strides, though at a quicker rate then normal, were enough to carry him there.

Looking up the road, Aragorn spotted the small house that they were headed for, as a Man, Cellin, the boy's father, Aragorn guessed, turned with a smile to see his boy running home.

"There you are!" He said, crouching down so that his son, still at a full run, san into his open embrace. Aragorn noted as they hugged in a slightly awkward position that the man's arm was in a sling, and looked like it had been for quite some time. Cellin stood up, holding the boy in his arms, he started to greet the stranger that had apparently followed his son home. Heaven knew what kind of trouble Callon had gotten himself into this time. He silenced the child's attempts to explain what ever had happened so he could greet the man. "Who is this?" He asked half to his son and half to Aragorn as the man walked up, his dark hood still pulled over his eyes.

Without a word Aragorn pulled the hood from over his head, smiling kindly, he was not surprised when the man recognized him.

"My Lord!" Shock registered on the man's face, quickly moving to put his son down, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. Aragorn smiled at him, but before he could finish bowing, Aragorn took his hand and raised him up.

"No need for reverence... Cellin, is it?" Aragorn smiled at him, recalling his name.

"Yes, Lord. I... I am sorry if Callon here-" He shakily started to apologize for what ever brought the king himself following his son home.

"No. There is no need for forgiveness here. Your son did nothing other then touch my heart with his words. He has a gift for his mother there." Aragorn smiled at the boy, who still held the shoes, which had been wrapped in a small cloth parcel, in his hands. Cellin placed curious eyes on his son and the small package, not knowing what Aragorn meant.

"I... Well, I wanted to buy mother a gift, for Yule this year..." Callon started cautiously. "So I saved up all the money The Inn Keeper gave me for running chores and I found these... And I knew that mother would like them, and... I wanted her to look beautiful because... Because she might meet Eruion...Tonight." The boy fought hard to keep his tears a bay, and Aragorn could not help but be proud when he succeeded. "But... I didn't have enough. And... And he helped me." Callon smiled sheepily up at the King.

The astonished look on Cellin's face only grew. "Sir?" He looked up to his king.

"And I was happy to do so." Aragorn told the boy. "But I thought..." He looked up to the father, "If there is more I can do..."

"Oh, you've already done so much, My Lord, we would never want to trouble you..." Cellin was at a loss for words.

"It is no trouble." Aragorn insisted. "If your wife is sick, I may be able to help." He told the man.

"Oh... Oh where _are_ my manners. Come in, if you will. It's cold out here, um... exuse the mess that is my house, if you will, my Lord." He opened the door, allowing his son in. He followed and held the door for the King.

"Thank you, Good sir, but..." Aragorn walked into the small house. "Today it is simply Strider." He winked at the man, hoping he conveyed his meaning. "Besides, I see nothing wrong with your house, it is a fine piece of work." he noticed the finely crafter doorway of the small, sturdy house. Placing his pack and the crate which the Ketral next to the doorway, he looked around. The small house was scantily furnished, but the furnishings that were there were works of fine carpentry. "What trade do you practice, Sir?" he turned to Cellin, already guessing the answer.

"I am a carpenter, my lord, I... I _was_ a carpenter. A bow-maker, too." He said with a small sigh. "I sold directly to the army, at that. That's why I knew your face. Only a few years ago I lived in Minas Tirith, until the... Accident." He said, looking down at his hand, which Aragorn saw was not only in a sling, but bandaged. "There was an accident, and..." He carefully unwrapped his right hand, which had fully healed, but was missing two fingers. "And I could no longer work with wood." He sighed, rewrapping the disabled hand. "No few times have I tried, though... I was trying to make a bow when this happened." He indicated his now broken arm. "But it's no use, and without any means to sell I... We moved out here. Now my wife, Malrin, has come down with something and... I'm not sure what I'll do when she's gone." He told the flat truth, no use hiding it from his son any longer.

Aragorn was saddened by the poor man's plight, and now more then ever wished he could help. "Let me see to her." He asked of them, picking his pack up once more, he looked to a small wooden door in the corner, guessing it was the bedroom.

Growing more exited; the man hurriedly led His king into the room. Malrin lay on the bed, a wet cloth on her forehead indicated her high fever, and her overall poor condition pointed to something worse.

"Malrin?" Cellin called her, gaining no response from the woman, who did not sleep, but did not respond either. "This is..." he began, Aragorn shot him a small warning look before he continued "Strider... He's come to help you." He said. Callon went to the other side of the bed, climbing up, he kissed his mother gently on the cheek.

Aragorn placed a gentle hand on her face, checking her pulse, it was slow, and her skin frighteningly hot to the touch. What worried him, however, was her lack of response. Prying her eyelids gently open, they were glazed and oddly swollen, and vacant.

"How long has she been this way?" Aragorn took her hand in his, looking over the condition of her skin. It was hot and red, some of it irritated and swollen

"Like this? Not long now. But she's been in bed for a few days. We're not sure when she got sick, at the beginning it wasn't anything much, I guess. She never told anyone, keeping up her work for her family. But I think she overworked herself, and now she's paying for it. The doctor gave her something, but I think she's had a bad reaction to it. Anyway, her fever only came after the doctor's visit. He didn't have anything more he could do. We were told she would die..." Cellin reported, taking his wife's hand as Aragorn moved back to place a gentle hand on her forehead.

"And that she will. Tonight, if untreated." Aragorn said, worry etched in his voice. "But not if I can help it." He dug quickly through his pack, drawing out several pouches of herbs and a few small vials of powder and liquid, along with a small bowl and a water skin. "I need a fire. Can you start one while I mix these?" He turned to the small family.

"Certainly." Cellin answered "Callon, go fetch some wood, quickly." He hurried out the door, leaving it open.

"Hang in there, Malrin." Aragorn whispered to the woman who lay on the bed. He quickly measured out several different herbs and liquids, putting all of them into the bowl, he looked back to examine the sickly woman, he added a few more ingredients, measuring out an extremely small amount of sulfur powder; he filled the bowl with water and mixed it gently.

"Done!" Little Callon ran in to report.

"Good. Is there a pot to put over it?" Aragorn asked, standing to his feet, he picked up the bowl carefully.

"Yes, sir, it's all ready!" Callon ran back into the main room, with Aragorn following quickly.

"Good..." Aragorn muttered, pouring the contence of his bowl into the small pot, he mounted it in the fireplace.

Waiting for it to warm, he turned to Callon. "When you give those shoes to your mother..." He began, intentionally showing his confidence that she would make it through "Do not tell her what I did. Tell her that you bought them, alright?" He whispered into his ear, as the boy's father went to get more wood if needed.

"Alright!" Callon answered quietly. "But thank you...Sir." The boy was still not quite sure what to address the King as. Aragorn smiled and nodded, not truly caring what title he was given, and happy to be a helping healer once more.

The mix did not need it to cook long, and it heated up quickly. Right before it could boil Aragorn removed it, carefully using cheesecloth to strain it, he poured it into a waiting mug. "There we are..." he sniffed it, nodding. It was not a very good small, but it was the right one. "This should help her. But first we ought to get her awake." They walked back into the bedroom, where she lay, still unresponsive.

Aragorn placed the mug down on a small bedside table, opening his pack again, he fetched a small vile, he held it under her nose for a moment. No response. Aragorn's brow knotted. He checked her pulse once again. It was slower now. Putting his hand on her forehead, it was not as hot as it had been before. He reached back into his bag and grabbed another pack of herbs, fear filling his eyes. Cellin placed his hand on his wife's cheek, relived at the drop in temperature.

"Her fever's broken!" He exclaimed, wondering at the grave look in his lord's eyes.

"No..." He answered, "Her body is shutting down." His motions quickened. Kneeling at the bedside, he took her hand, feeling her pulse again, he quickly broke the green leaves in his hands, holding the fresh herbs under her nose. Gripping her hand tightly, he squoze the Athelas, pressing out the oil. Closing his eyes, he felt out with his consciousness, trying to make contact with hers, and call her back. Putting more of his will and power into the task, he prayed she would respond.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. Relieved, Aragorn removed the leaves, dropping them in the mug of tea, the aroma wafted through the room now, improving the smell tenfold.

"Mother!" Callon exclaimed, extremely joyous at the response.

"Thank God!" Cellin added. Malrin tried her best to smile weakly at her family, looking over to the other man kneeling at her bedside.

"You..." The word was barely audible, as she pointed weakly at Aragorn "I heard your voice. You called me."

"That I did." Aragorn looked up at her with a smile. A small gasp escaped her lips as when she saw his face, recognizing that the King of Gondor and Arnor knelt at her bedside. "And you answered."

"Why...Cellin, don't you know who this is?" She struggled to make the words.

"Yes, dear, and he came to help. God bless him, he came to help." Unshed tears filled Cellin's eyes ad he took his wife's hand, kneeling next to his king.

"And I'm not done yet." Aragorn added. "Here, drink this. It will not taste good, but it should help a lot." The frail woman took the warm mug he offered in her hands, as her husband mounted the bed to help her sit up.

"Thank you, sir." She took a small sip, leaning back against her husband, who also steadied her hand as he rested her against his chest.

"Of course." Aragorn smiled. "It really is my pleasure to help. I am not suited for the life of a politician, though far too many of the nobles think I should be. It is good to get out of it for a while, and helping you makes it one hundred times better." He packed his herbs back up.

"Mother! Mother!" Callon ran back into the room after fetching his precious package. "Look!" He jumped back onto the bed and handed it to her. Aragorn shot him a small wink, bringing a smile to both his and his father's face. "I got you this... " He handed the package to her when she had finished most of the tea.

"Why... Callon, you know we don't have enough to..." With her husband's help, the package was swiftly opened. "Why..." She was at a loss for words for a moment. "Callon they are lovely!" Her eyes filled with tears, as a small smile came upon her face.

"I knew you would like them..." Callon took the shoes from her hands, gently lifting the end of the sheets and slipping them onto her feet. The simple shoes were nothing too special, they were fine craftsmanship, new and unworn, and they fit perfectly on her feet, comfortable and warm.

"How?" She smiled, but wondered at her son, knowing how little money they had, and that her son knew not to waste any.

"I... saved up all my money and..." The little boy looked up to Aragorn, "Well... Strider helped..." He admitted, knowing that Aragorn didn't want him to say such things, but he felt bad saying otherwise.

"Strider?" Malrin asked.

"Me, Ma'am, " Aragorn sat down next to Callon on the foot of the bed. "Some call me Strider. I told your son he could, I didn't want too many people to know my true name." He summed up the situation of his many, many names. "But Callon. Tell your mother what you told the shoemaker. Tell her why you got these." He prompted the boy, remembering the words that touched his heart so much.

"Oh... "Callon started "Well, I told him I wanted to buy the shoes, for you, mother... See it's Yule time and I knew the shoes would fit you perfectly. And I... I asked him to hurry, because daddy said there wasn't much time..." Callon did his best to tell the tale, as tears threatened to fill his eyes. "Because, well, you were sick, and... Well, I wanted to make you smile and... And I wanted you to look beautiful, if you... If you went to go meet Eruion tonight." The tears had passed filing his eyes and were now running down his cheeks as he recalled what could have happened if it were not for Aragorn.

Aragorn smiled down at the boy as his mother summoned him over, pulling him into a tight hug, both of their faces streaked with tears.

"But..." Callon lifted his face from its place under his mother's arm. "But strider made it all better..." He said, looking over to the man that sat on the foot of a bed, wearing a huge smile on his face.

"Hmm..." The ranger answered, the only recognition needed. "Yes, now that your fever's broken it shouldn't take long for you to be on your feet. _IF_..." He added, "You drink your medicine." He picked up the mostly empty cup, handing it to her.

"Thank you." She said quietly, draining the last bit of the warm liquid.

"You also need rest." Aragorn added, "And it's far past dark by now. Time for bed, I would say!" He smiled as he took the empty cup from her hand, placing on the bedside table.

"I am sorry, My Lord, that we do not have any accommodations, if you would like to go back to the tavern, or-" Cellin started to rise from the bed, gently lowering his wife back down, comfortable once again, deep in her sheets.

"No," Aragorn cut him off. "What you have is more then enough for me." He let go a happy sigh. "I would rather sleep on the hearth here then any bed the innkeeper could offer." He smiled, thinking back to old times "If only you knew of my past life... My _real_ life, you would understand." he told them. Callon accompanied him to the bedroom door, heading back into the living room.

A knock could be heard from the front door.

"Who could that be?" Cellin, who was just settling down in bed, forced himself back to his feet to answer the door.

"Yes?" He walked quickly over, grabbing a candleholder and letting it light quickly as he walked past the fire before opening the door.

"Is a... Strider... here?" An all too familiar voice floated gracefully to Aragorn as he went about making bed on the hearth.

"They found me!" He whispered quietly to Callon, who sat next to him. The little boy's expression showed actual fear at the intensity of the man's words, as Aragorn scurried to hide himself behind a small chair, poking his head up to watch the man at the door. He smiled as Callon followed suit, glad the child like his game.

"Why..." Cellin started, looking to the man Aragorn for help. The ranger locked his eyes with the other man's informing him to tell the truth. "Yes, he is... Why?"

"I'm looking for him." The visitor said, holding the reigns of his white mare. "The Inn Keeper said I might find him here. I... I am an old friend." He finished, smiling at the man who held the door open for him.

"Well... I guess you can..." He looked once more to Aragorn for assistance. The man signaled with his head that the visitor was to be let in. "Come in, please." Cellin said at last. "It's cold out... you can, tie your horse there, if you'd like, I'm afraid there's no decent stable for a way's down..." He stepped back to allow his guest in. Before he could see the king, Aragorn ducked, slumping into the chair, he smiled once more as Callon followed his movements.

"Thank you, sir." The newcomer said, following instruction and ducking in the door. His keen blue eyes searched the room, not seeing his friend anywhere, but his cloak lying on the hearth. "I..."

His sentence was cut off as a small copper coin made hard impact with his cheek.

"What the-"

Aragorn smiled, giving a small thumbs up to his partner in crime who sat beside him, slumped oddly in the chairs, they had used Aragorn's knife o send one of Callon's coin fling at the new threat. Aragorn tried desperately to check his laughter at his friend's face, whose fine features would soon sport a small red spot.

His keen ear picked up a soft laughed coming from beyond the two small chairs near the fireplace. Cocking his head to the side, he raised an eyebrow and slowly went to investigate.

"I..." Cellin, not knowing what was happening tried to deter him from his intent not knowing what his lord wanted done with this inquierer.

In that moment, Aragorn popped his head out once more to fling another coin. This one hit its target in the center of the forehead. The ranger let out a huge laugh at the friend's stunned face as he rose from hiding.

"You've found me!" He said, still laughing, he went quickly up, skipping a greeting; he wrapped his former target in a strong embrace. "Legolas." he said, pulling the elf tightly to himself, his bearded chin rested for a moment against the long blond hair of his friend before he pulled away. "What took so long?" He asked playfully.

"Well, seeing as I left the moment I showed up. You know it is a good thing Arwen told me, or I would have spent the whole day getting lost in the city trying to find you. And here you are, back to your old ranger self out... Well what _are _you doing here?" Legolas chided and questioned all at once.

"Well, I would be sleeping if _you_ hadn't knocked on the door... I thought my brothers were the ones lacking knowledge of visiting hours, not you." He said, as Cellin and Callon simply watched the two. "Oh! Where are my manners? Cellin, Callon, this is Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood and... "Aragorn grabbed the elf around the shoulders once more, reaching over and playfully rubbing his knuckles on the top oh his head. "My best friend." He smiled. Legolas threw his hand off of him. "And Legolas, this is Cellin, the Bow maker of the Royal army, and his son, Callon." He introduced the men. Cellin's face was saddened a bit by the title but his son was extremely exited to meet the newcomer.

"You're an _elf_? Really?" He asked, looking the prince up and down. Legolas smiled kneeling down to talk with the boy.

"Prince?" Cellin turned to Aragorn as Legolas and his son conversed. Having one royal was quite enough, but two?

"Yes..." Aragorn laughed lightly, realizing the man's situation. "We won't be any trouble. Legolas can sleep by me by the fire, I mean if you don't mind." Aragorn assured the man.

"Oh, no, I... I'm sorry we..." Cellin started to protest Aragorn's humbleness once more. Aragorn's laugh cut him off.

"No... Don't be. Everything is perfect. We'll be fine. Go and see to your wife, Callon will..." he glanced down at the little boy, who listened intently, as Legolas had already lunched into story-telling mode. "I promise He'll get to bed... tonight." He smiled meekly.

"Well... alright." The man said, still feeling a bit ashamed, the feeling faded at his lord's smile. "Callon." he called his son's attention. "These men need their sleep too. And you, my son. Get to bed."

Callon's eyes begged his father to let him stay, already immersed in the elf's tale. Cellin glanced at Aragorn, the ranger's eyes imploring him just as much as the boy's.

"Soon." The man set and unspecific time limit, and his son nodded, immediately getting back into the mood of the story. Aragorn sat down next to his friend on the hearth as the elf continued.

"'_Why that's a map!_' He said, and of course we already knew that, but Trelan just had to say it..."

Aragorn immediately recognized the story, remembering how funny it would get later when that plant- which he was sure was a servant of Sauron- came in. He stayed quiet during the story, putting a comment here and there, he enjoyed listening to his friend tell the tale, and he knew Callon was enjoying it. The boy's face displayed everything from joy to horror as the story wound on.

Aragorn yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand; he did not even want to guess what time it was.

"'_Creepy_.'" Legolas said. Callon erupted in laughter, and Aragorn could not help smiling himself.

"It _was!_" He defended. Through the rest of the story he smiled, but slowly drifted off to sleep.

"Callon..." he said at last. "I think it's...Far past your bedtime" He yawned the words.

"Oh... Alright..." The boy said, trudging off to his bedroom, Aragorn could tell the boy was tired when he heard him literally flop onto the bed.

"Goodnight, Legolas." Aragorn slid off the fireside seat and onto the floor, where his cloak lay, ready to be a blanket.

"Good-" Legolas stopped, a strange noise reaching his ears. "What was that?" He asked, in the dark room he stood fully alert.

"What?" Aragorn moaned. There it was again.

"That!" Legolas insisted, walking slowly towards the doorway. Aragorn thought of what it could be. He heard it again. Oh no.

"Wait!" Aragorn pushed himself off the ground, whispering sharply to his friend. "That's... uh... nothing." He said, to tired to think up a good defense.

"Nothing?" Legolas raised an eyebrow.

"Yes..." Aragorn grimaced as Legolas picked up the crate which held the baby ketral.

"North-" he sighed, "It was your present. I guess I can't hide it anymore." He started back towards his place on the ground.

"Why it's..." Legolas eased open the door to the crate, still trying to figure out what the little creature was. "It's a Ketral!" His tone grew more exited then it had been in a long time. "Why... Aragorn where did you find this?" He asked, astonished. He had not had a pet in over a year now, his own ketral passing away; he had released a few of them back into Mirkwood forest once he was sure they could fend for themselves. Taking the tiny creature into his hands, He felt it curl into a content ball in his hand; the small, pitiful perfection of innocence was the cutest thing Legolas had seen in ages.

"A forester had him... from Fangorn, I believe." Aragorn said shortly, lying back down on the ground.

Legolas, still in a bit of awe, followed the ranger to the fire, sitting by his friend, he stroked the little creature's fur fondly, its orange-brown pelt soft of the elf's fingers and his tender body precious in his hands. The elf laughed softly.

"Here," he said, "I'll sleep on this side, so if anything comes in it will get me first." The elf repeated a quote from the story he had just told. Aragorn had a lot of explaining to do that was for sure. Even though the ranger had told of what happened with Malrin earlier when an interruption came to their story, Legolas still wanted to know many other things, like why he had been hit in the face by two coins earlier. he smiled as he rolled over, scooting closer to the man, their backs touched lightly, and Legolas relaxed in the comforting reminder of old adventures long past, falling asleep in the warmth of the fire that died slowly behind him. This was a good time of year. He hugged his new little pet to his chest as he drifted off into elven sleep.

The bright sun rose slowly over the fresh white blanket of new snow, calling all in the small house to wake at last.

"Where is it?" Aragorn whispered to his friend, who quickly searched the ground for 'it'.

"I... I don't know!" He answered, trying not to wake anyone; Aragorn could not help but laugh at his friend

"You _lost_ it?!" He accused.

"Well... It's not my fault!" Legolas defended, scouring the room.

"I don't see how not!" Aragorn was still laughing as he rose and began to restore the fire in the fireplace.

"Well it was so small and... It needed to be warm so..." Legolas stood and scratched his head.

"So you let it crawl away?" Aragorn raised an eyebrow.

"No!... I mean..."

"Yes!"

"Well, it's not _lost_... it's just... not here." Legolas' tone was growing more worried by the second as he tried to calm himself.

"Mm-hm." Aragorn summed up his disbelief in a strange sound that was not quite a word, but conveyed more meaning then many words could.

"Here it is!" Legolas was on his knees, under the table, as he lunged to catch his newest pet. The little Ketral jumped quickly out of the way, playing with its new elven friend, it darted up on top of the table. Legolas stood quickly to chase it, bumping his head on the way; he almost knocked the table over with a second lunge at it. The little creature ran straight to Aragorn, scampering up his leg, it dove into his jacket pocket. Aragorn laughed loudly, putting his hand on it as Legolas came to a quick stop of his chase, practically fuming at the ranger's laughter.

"It likes me!" Aragorn exclaimed, carefully taking it out of his pocket, making sure to keep a tight hold, He lifted it up, petting it's head fondly.

Legolas glared at him, desperately trying to hold his angry expression when all he wanted to do was laugh. At last, his emotion won over and his mask failed, releasing to a playful grin at the ranger's own face when the man cuddled the small creature, trying his best make Legolas laugh.

"Yes, you ran away from Legolas, didn't you? Mm-hm." Aragorn talked to the little critter as it looked at him with giant, dark eyes. The ranger snapped out of it the moment he heard his friend laugh. "Here you go!" He offered the ketral back to its owner.

Legolas took the little animal in his hands, as it jumped to his shoulder, turning its face up to lick his cheek fondly. Both of them laughed softly at the strange animal as they sat back down on the hearth.

Soft feet padded into the room, and Legolas and Aragorn looked up to see young Callon enter the room, rubbing his eyes.

"Sleep well?" Aragorn whispered to him, still trying not to wake the house and wondering if he were to blame for the boy's wakeful presents.

The young boy nodded slowly, yawning and looking up, his face showing the still remaining remnace of the fact he could not believe that the King of Gondor and an elf were in his house, and his mother would get better and all of the other events of the past days.

"That's good, now-" Aragorn began to talk, but stopped when he noted that the boy paid him no heed. His eyes were looked in awe at the little bundle in Legolas' hands.

The baby ketral's head poked out from under it's master's hand and studied the newcomer from a distance.

"What is that?" Callon asked, exited, as he came up closer, wishing to get a better view.

"This..." Legolas opened his hand carefully, wary of the animal's swift movements. "Is a ketral." He said "He's only a baby right now, so we've got to be careful, but ketral are-" At that moment the little ball of fur leapt out of his hands and onto his shoulder, seemingly intent on getting tangled in the elf's hair.

"Trouble makers!" Aragorn finished, catching the little beast and prying him free of Legolas' golden hair.

"I was going to say my favorite pets..." Legolas laughed.

"Maybe they're both!" Callon added, himself laughing at the funny faces Legolas made as Aragorn and the animal pulled his hair.

"I guess so..." Legolas answered, cringing.

To this sight Cellin came into the living room of his house, the king of Gondor saving a baby ferret-like creature from the prince of Mirkwood's hair as his son watched and laughed. And he thought his life was strange before. After finally wrestling the creature out, Aragorn turned to the man.

"Good morning! How is your wife?" He asked, reminding himself to whisper again.

"She is... much better... thanks to you." Cellin said with a smile, popping out the door for a moment to grab more firewood, he came back in and began to start a fire anew. "How long do you plan on staying?" He asked not wishing to be rude, but still feeling bad for his low accommodations for the king.

"I was hoping to see Malrin well again, but if you wish us to stay in the inn we would be fine. I am sorry if we are a burden to you, but feel no shame in anything. I know what a good accommodation is when I see it, and this is one of the best I have received from a man like you. Thank you for what you have shared with us." Aragorn said, recalling the many nasty adventures of being a ranger.

"Oh... You are very welcome. And welcome to stay as long as you wish, My Lord, but I fear we run low on many a thing..." He said, timid to show the low level of contence in their pantry.

"Just Aragorn, if you don't mind, "Aragorn smiled at his new friend "And I think I can help with that. I have a few things I must do in town today. What say you Legolas and I go buy some things at the market and see what we can do? We've got enough money, don't worry, and I would be happy to do it for you." He planned their day as Legolas returned his pet to its cage. "After I check on Malrin." The ranger finished.

Going back into their room, Aragorn found Malrin in a much better condition then the night before, her fever had lowered, and her strength was returning, the change was so dramatic he barely recognized her. Immediately wishing to get up and make breakfast for her lord, and her lord's friend, the fl, Aragorn had to tell her multiple times that her rest was more important then his food, and to lie back down. At last she conformed, and Aragorn brewed up another cup of tea for her, this time showing Cellin what all was needed and how to construct it.

After that they went out into town. Aragorn stopped first at the gatekeeper's house by the weak wall that protected the town, he asked that, if possible, a messenger be sent to Minas Tirith, telling that he was safe and wished a carriage to be sent back with the messenger. For this, he had to reveal his identity, but he gave instruction that none other then the messenger and gatekeeper were to know where he was.

When he was done, they aware off to the market. All kinds of strange things could be found there, but they stayed in the basics, bread, cheese, meat, and a few other select foods. It was enough to make anything on the limited menu the two knew how to construct.

Over the next few days, Malrin only got better, ands Callon and Cellin happier. Aragorn and Legolas tested their abilities in the kitchen, sometimes failing utterly, and on the third day, the carriage Aragorn had sent for arrived.

"I must return to Minas Tirith, but...I was hoping..." He said to Cellin "That you and your family might come with me." He said. Callon's face immediately light up in a smile, and Cellin showed only disbelief. Malrin smiled kindly at him from her spot on the large chair. "I sent for a carriage so that Malrin could ride, since I still forbid you to stay out in the snow for too long. Cellin and Callon, if you wish to ride with her you may, while me and Legolas will ride his horse.

"I will stay with Malrin, but... Callon, you can stay out, only for a little while. I can't have you catching cold as well.

"Yes Sir!" Callon shouted, eager for any chance to ride outside, he climbed up next to the driver immediately,

The others loaded up, after a short dispute on who got to ride in front on Legolas' horse, seeing as she was Legolas', but Aragorn had the universal tool of being the king of the lands they were in. In the end, the elf won out by jumping on and spurring his horse away. Coming back in a few moments to offer a seat behind him.

"Ya!" Callon yelled at the horses, having no effect until their driver commanded them. The boy smiled widely at the turn of events, glorying at the idea of returning to Minas Tirith with the king.

"Stop here." Aragorn said, arriving at the huge fields of brilliant white, they were only a shot ways from home, but Legolas could see who awaited them at the gate, and he and Aragorn had come up with a perfect plot. After a quick description of the plan to the others, Legolas spurred his horse off the road, heading north, the white horse blended well with the snow, and a carriage would be a great distraction for the victim of the second battle of Pelenor fields. Taking the long way round, Legolas and Aragorn dismounted, as their target was watching the newcomers enter in the gate; they sunk closer, hiding behind a pile of snow. They were in range.

POW

A snowball found its mark on the side of young prince Eldarion's face, knocking him to the ground.

WOOSH

Another one whizzed over his downed form. Standing to his feet, the boy ducked behind his newly built snowman to build up ammo before storming his new enemy.

Aragorn could not bring himself to know down his own son's masterpiece of three balls stacked on one another, and so he and Legolas simply prepared for his attack.

"AHH!" The seven year old gave a battle cry as he ran towards them, armed with as many balls as he could carry, many of the fell out of his arms before they could be used.

WHAP

A snowball hit the young crusader on the shoulder, but he ran on. The cold wind stung his face, his lungs frozen and his fingers numb, he was determined to carry on.

SLAM

He threw his first ball after spotting his assailants. Aragorn's sight was taken over by white snow ad he laughed, falling to the ground. Legolas tossed another ball at young Dari, this time hitting his face.

Dropping all his balls, the boy rubbed his eyes clean, but was quick to pick up a ball and chuck it at the elf.

THUNK

Cold, wet snow made contact with Legolas' back as he bent to make more ammunition.

Aragorn turned to more drastic measures.

"AHH!" He cried, leaping from his spot on the ground, he playfully tackled his boy to the ground, making sure he had not hurt him; he began to tickle the boy mercilessly.

"No!" Dari yelled, trying to escape his father, he had trouble breathing around his laughter and thrashings. Soon the both of them were sent tumbling down the hill, as Legolas watched and laughed.

Eldarion landed on top, his forearm coming to rest on his father's throat, if it were a fight he could easily cut off the trumped man's air, but that was not his intension.

"I taught you to well..." Aragorn grumbled, "It's not fair." He said smugly.

Dari did not respond but only laugh in triumph.

"Come, there is someone I want you to meet."

As the two stood up, Legolas almost fell over laughing. Both of them formally wearing black were now covered in white, sharing the look of having their dark locks filled with white ice. Arwen would love this.

The three of them walked into the city, and Aragorn, to escape the guards, slipped quickly into the nearest inn, where he had instructed Cellin and his family to go. Slipping into the back room, he found the three of them sipping hot tea while they waited for him. Callon laughed at the appearance of whom he knew to be the king and crown prince, both covered in snow. Eldarion was about the same age as he was, he had long wondered if they would ever meet, but now he did not quite know what to say.

Eldarion shook his head, trying to get the cold melting crystals from his hair, and then walked straight up to the lad, as Aragorn talked with his father.

"Hello..." He said, "I'm Dari..."

From that moment until the end of their stay, the two boys had good company all the time.

Over the next few days Aragorn' brothers arrived, as did Faramir and Eowyn from Ithilien, and the joy grew every moment. Aragorn was not afraid to tell his 'advisers' and all other annoying political men that whatever they wanted could wait, unless it was to join in with the celebration. The night of Yule approached, and the last gifts were bought or made, and when the morning came, Eldarion and Callon woke the entire house together. The fires were made and a feast prepared. Sitting down to a table with friends and family, laughter filled the room. Legolas' little Ketral constantly crawled around, jumping into random people' pockets until at last it ad to go up, after knocking a candle stand over and nearly setting the rug on fire. Eldarion had his little sword, and Callon a small bow, the last one his father had been able to make. Arwen her necklace, Legolas his pet. The twins received matching pendants that Aragorn had designed and had made in the style of the elves. Aragorn received everything from a hunting knife to a new jerkin, to what he really needed- a circlet to replace the annoying heavy crown. For Cellin and his family there was not much, but they valued simply being there more then anything they could have recieved tat night.

After presents and play, everyone gathered in Aragorn's main private hall, the Minas Tirith version of the hall of fire, it was a pale comparison, but it was the best place for gathering and storytelling. The fire crackled bright in the large fireplace and couches, chairs and floor cushions were filled with friends and family.

"As King I claim right to the first story!" Aragorn called, as always, using his title as a joke. "This one is a tale I know many of the room have heard before. Ro, Dan, Arwen, Dari, and you too, I believe, Legolas. It is a tale that my father told us ever Yule. It is the reason we're here, and the reason we're together tonight."

Aragorn's mind wandered to the old days when his father told the tale.

Young Estel leaned happily against a large cushion on the floor in the hall of fire. The five year old smiled contently as his father sat before him and his brothers beside. Elrond was a great storyteller, and this was one of his favorites.

"Long ago, before you were born, When I was a lad, during the first age of the world, when the world was still flat and Beriland was home to most the good peoples now of Middle Earth, When my mother was still in the land and my father had left to seek Valinor, and me and Elros were not yet grown, there came a time when a short journey separated us from our mother for a short time, for we were to go to Lord Gil-Galad's house for a time, and she stayed behind. On the way there, though, something incredible happened."

The stars shown brightly in the cool night sky as their small group moved north. Young Elrond and Elros traveled with a small group of elves from the sea unto the lodging of Gil-Galad, but fate had different plans for that night. As the road wove deeper into the forest, the darkness grew deeper and the two young elves fell to the back of the group, eventually falling behind all together, as the combine weight of the boys, riding doubles on their horse, weigh the animal down and they themselves were too tired to keep it going.

"Come on, El, we've got to keep up!" Elrond shook the boy in front of him, reaching around and taking the reigns from his twin, he tried to master his own sleepiness, kicking the horse into a trot. The quick jouncing shook Elros awake, but neither of the riders were alert enough to keep up. It had been a long few days. They had been traveling for some time now, and, starting in the marched around the mouth of the Sirion, had come into the Nan-Tathren, or the Valley of the Willows.

"Right..." Elros tried to answer, taking the reigns from his brother, he looked up to steer. "Where's the road?"

Elrond looked up to see what his broth could mean. Before him was a dark forest, lit by the moonlight, there was no trail, path, or road before them. "Uh... Try that way." He said, pointing to the right. His twin quickly repositioned himself and guided tier horse that way. Both of the elve's fear was raised, as the road did not appear. "Maybe that way?" They switched direction. No road.

"I say it's this way..." Elros turned the horse back to their original direction. Looking around, they traveled in silence and suspense for a good half an hour.

"Wow!" Elros cried, as the horse lots it' footing and he was thrown off the saddle. Elrond followed, jumping off in attempt to control is immanent fall. Both of them landed roughly in the underbrush.

Elros groaned softly as he rubbed his head, Elrond helped him to his feet and they checked over their mount. The small horse had a fractured front right leg.

"Ohh... Now what?" Elrond muttered, as he went to find a few good planks of wood to make a splint. Elros did his best to comfort the injured animal, petting its muzzle, he whispered soothing word in elvish.

"We need to get him to safety. Ti won't last long out here..." Elros said, examining the leg again.

"But we're lost!" his brother reminded.

"Ye, then there is that..."

"If we can't find the road soon we'll have to stop somewhere. We need to rest."

"Agreed. Let's get this splinted." Elrond carefully wrapped up the poor horses' leg, and the two set out trying to find the road. Gazing up at the stars, the two conversed over which ones were which, trying to find constellations and landmarks in the sky.

"I think that's the one we want to follow." Elros pointed up to the lowest, brightest of stars, and what he was hoping was north. The boys started their low progress toward what they hoped was safety.

Hours later, Elrond, his feet dragging and is eyes threatening to hit while he still walked on, looked up to see light.

"Elros!" he called, reaching over to shake his brother, who' tiredness mimicked his own. "Look!" He pointed forward, before them was a small little cave-like structure. Torches were lit inside, and beyond Elrond swore he could see another building, maybe even two.

Their energy tripled, they hurried forward, slowed only by the limping horse they led along. The poor creature was about to fall over, but it seemed they would have help at last. As they drew neared the many animals revealed the building to be a stable, the young elves hoped they could get help for their horse there. As they approached, they came to see another group of people going into the stable.

"Sir!" Elros called. "Sir! Can you help us?"

The man turned around. His clothing simple, he held a large staff in one hand and cradled a small lamb in the other. Three other men were with him, one looking at someting in te stable, the other two dealing with a small heard of sheep.

"Come!" The man called, his face exited, he walked up and took the lead line of their wounded horse "Come and see the king!"

"The king?" Elrond asked, his voice tired, and is brain even more so. What did that mean? Not Gil-Galad, but who else would be called king in these lands? He let the wounded horse be led into the stable, and watched the creature lay down on the hay, exhausted. How he wished he could do that. His attention was captured as the exited shepherd ushered him in to meet the king.

"The one who the Valar prophesied of! Come and see! The son of Eru himself a come to us this night! He brings hope and promie, love and peace."

He heard the soft cry of a babe. Coming in to the stable, He saw that which the shepards gathered around. With Elros by his side, he looked to see a woman and her husband, holding their newly born child. Somehow, he knew this was the king.

Both of the young elves stood speechless, an overwhelming feeling of awe coming over them at the simple sight of the family and the child. With a small smile, the mother nodded them over. Still speechless, the boys approached.

"His name is Eruion." She told them, her voice soft and kind.

"It... It is a good name..." Elrond stammered a bit, coming up to see the baby boy. The mother smiled, laughing a bit at the reaction her new baby gained.

"I wish... I had something I could give him..." Elros looked down, checking if he did. His small pendant shone around his neck. His father had given it to him. The last birthday present before he left to cross the sea. He did not know if the man would ever be back, and he treasured the trinket above any other thing he had with him. But he would give it to this little human babe. He quickly unlatched it, the fine silver imbedded with a brilliant diamond jewel. "Here." He said, "Please take it... It... It is the least I could give, I feel..."

"Oh..." The babe's mother said, "Thank you."

"And take this, too, if you will..." Elrond spoke up, wishing he had something as good as his brother to give; he did not worry about it, holding no jealousy against his twin. He drew out of his belt pouch a small clasp of his own. It was not a fine as his brother's, made with second rate metals and the craftsmanship of a student, he himself had made it, not to long ago, before he decided that healing was better then smithing. One of the finest things he had even made. Now he gave it to little Eruion.

He was glad of everything now. Glad they had gotten lost. Glad his horse broke its leg, maybe even glad he did not know where in all of Arda he was, save that he was lost. He was glad. For he got to meet the one person he knew mattered the most. He would remember this day, and tell its story. Forever.

Young Estel's sleepy eyes shone in the brilliant captivation of the tale his father told. He wished he could have been there. To meet Eruion himself. The savior of the world. He loved this time of year. The tradition had been made, with help from Elrond and Elros, to celebrate the occasion so many years ago, and somehow spread throughout all the free peoples of middle earth. This was one of his favorite stories, and he loved the days of leisure when he and his family could spend simply taking pleasure in each other's company.

"And Eruion came that night, to Beriland and Middle Earth to save elves and men alike from thier wrong, and promise them a place in paradice."

Eldarion's eyelids threatened to close on him as the story came to a close. It was so calming, listening to his father tell the tale. But he knew there would be much more that night. Laughter and song would fill the alls until morning, if it was to be like any other Yule season. Last year he fell asleep on is father's lap during a tale of old, but he was determined to stay up this time. He loved such stories but always seemed to get so lost in them his energy was drained. Which meant it was time for more sugar. Biscuits and cookies were served all through the night and they were what kept young Dari going. And this time he had a friend his own age. The two kept each other awake and entertained, as the grown-ups told stories and held conversation until the sun danced over the horizon.

"Ada?" He said, dragging the tip of his sword on the ground behind him, he tugged on his father's tunic "I think it's time for bed now..." he yawned. Aragorn hoisted his son up on his shoulders, wrapping the boy's arms about his neck; he carried Dari into his room.

"I think you're right." He said, "Callon and his family have gone to bed, I figure you should too." he laughed, knowing that the sun was rising, not setting on the horizon. Eldarion jumped to him bed, pulling the sheets over himself, he hugged his little trainer's blade close, as his father bent down to kiss his forehead.

"Happy Yule, My son. I hope you never forget Eruion's birthday. Good night, Ion-nin... Or... Good morning."


End file.
